


A Happy End

by lixabiz



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Retail Workers AU, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lixabiz/pseuds/lixabiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose screws up the courage to ask the object of her crush out on a date, but things don’t go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Happy End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 50 AUs meme on Tumblr. I dunno if there are Teavana shops in England, and this has not been brit-picked so I apologize in advance for my Canadian ways.

He drops heavily onto the bench seat next to her, eyes dully facing forward. There’s an exquisitely awkward pause as Rose stiffens and slouches at the same time. Dread fills her.  
  
"How much did you overhear?" His voice is bright and a little bit brittle, like recently rattled glass.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
"Look, I- I didn’t mean to or anything. I just-"  
  
She’d already been there, on the third floor landing, clutching her phone and a pair of movie tickets. She’d been waiting for him. He’d gone outside during his lunch hour and she knew he always came back in through the stairwell so she’d been ready for him.  
  
"Everything?" He runs his hand through his hair and finally looks at her.  
  
Rose tries to apologize, but the words get stuck in her throat, so she just nods.  
  
His expression is not cold, or angry, but it’s definitely unhappy. Her stomach roils. Nausea joins the list of symptoms along with watery eyes and shaky hands and a hollow feeling in her chest.  
  
"I really wish you hadn’t," he mutters.  
  
*  
  
Since… the Incident, Rose has been doing her best to avoid the Doctor and has been fairly successful for the better part of ten days. Sometime into the second week he seems to take notice and it becomes tricky, dodging him. Rose buries herself in the task of voluntarily cleaning out the storeroom and doesn’t emerge until her coworkers complain about the bloody massage therapist next door making a nuisance of himself.

"Oh lord, not him again," Adam moans. " _One_ , just because the clinic is called ‘Massage Doctor’ it doesn’t make him an actual Doctor, and two, I don’t give a toss about his refined palate, _he’s full of it_! Rose, I am _not_ serving him!”

Adam skedaddles away like an offended otter and Rose is left alone with the man she’s been trying so very hard to steer clear of. And judging from the look on the Doctor’s face, he knows it too.

"I’m not upset at you, so you can stop avoiding me."  
  
"I’ve been busy," she says defensively. "Tea doesn’t sell itself, you know?"  
  
"Right," he says, and it’s obvious he doesn’t believe her.   
  
Rose refills the little paper cups of over-brewed sample teas and is compelled, against every inch of her being screaming _NO!_ at her to say, “Reinette’s in today.”  
  
There’s a pause. “Is she?”  
  
"Yeah. She’s working cash."  
  
"S’pose she and Louise have made up, then."  
  
"Yeah. Sorry," Rose says, because there’s nothing else to say.  
  
"Don’t apologize," he says. The Doctor drops the magazine he’s holding onto the counter, where stars of a currently screening film stare up at Rose accusingly. She has two unused tickets stashed in her desk drawer for that film. She should give them away, no point in wasting them. Rose heaves a sigh - involuntarily - and regrets it, because it makes the Doctor look at her, his sharp ears and even sharper eyes flicking over her face.   
  
"What were you doing on the stairs that day?" he asks, and Rose is instantly flooded with dread and humiliation. "You never take that exit and I know for a fact that you don’t smoke."  
  
"Neither do you," says Rose, deflecting.  
  
"No, I don’t," he agrees.  
  
"I was waiting for someone," she says impulsively. Honesty. The best policy. Leaving out certain facts, like names, for instance, that didn’t make it fibbing, right? The quicker she can end this conversation, the better.   
  
"Who?"  
  
"He didn’t show," she says, opting for outright lying in the name of self-preservation.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"He wasn’t interested."  
  
The Doctor lifts his eyebrow. It’s maddening and sexy. He’s so attractive, sometimes, it’s just absolutely unfair.  
  
"When you say not interested…?"  
  
The question hangs in the air. Rose feels like crying and a little bit like laughing too. “Not interested,” she repeats. He still looks blank.   
  
_Doesn’t that just say it all?_ Rose thinks. _You are definitely not interested._   
  
"In me, I mean."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So… so you see, I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose," she says, just to break the silence. "I was… I was getting rejected, too."  
  
He winces at the blunt phrasing and Rose feels a momentary stab of satisfaction.  
  
"Sorry," he says finally. "That’s… sorry, I didn’t know."

The way he looks at her is different now. It’s a mixture of surprise and apprehension and curiosity and something else that is altogether ambiguous.  
  
She shifts away. “Anyway, it’s not a big deal. I wasn’t expecting… well, it doesn’t matter now.”  
  
Rose shrugs. The Doctor reaches out as though to put a consoling hand on her shoulder but his arm drops short of touching her. She’s glad of it. She’s going to pretend this never happened, that she never got her hopes up and read his signals wrong.  
  
"Look," he begins to say, but he doesn’t seem to know what to say, and the sentence goes unfinished as Rose’s manager emerges from the chaotic, half-cleaned storeroom.  
  
"This is good," the Doctor says abruptly, gulping down the rest of his deluxe sample. "Give me a bag of it."  
  
Rose doles out four scoops, as per his instruction, and tries not to cringe as she weighs and prices his order. He doesn’t bat a lash at forking over nearly forty quid for a bag of tea, and throughout the entire transaction, she feels the weight of his uncomfortably speculative gaze on her.   
  
*  
  
"Sometimes it helps to talk about it," the Doctor says, hand in chin.   
  
Across from him, Rose carefully eats her chips, pretending she didn’t hear.  
  
They’re having lunch. They always have lunch together these days. It’s almost like dating, except Rose knows she’s just a friend, just someone he feels comfortable talking to, a sympathetic ear. It’s not so bad and she resigns herself to it because realistically, why would he be interested in her? She’s younger than he is, a shop girl with no career, no A-levels and no prospects. Just boring old Rose Tyler.  
  
Yet the Doctor seeks her out more often than ever, is as charming as ever. There’s a certain… quality to the way he looks at her now that she finds very… muddling.   
  
"You’ve got ketchup on your-" He reaches out and swipes his thumb over her Cupid’s bow, taking Rose by surprise. She refrains from flinching, which surely would hurt his feelings, and barely manages to keep a normal face.   
  
"Thanks," she says, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from blushing. He’s staring at her closely, gauging her response.  
  
"Anything you want to talk about, I’m ready to listen."  
  
"I…" she’s unsure of how to deal with this offer. On one hand, it’s nice to know he cares. On the other hand… he’s obviously angling to hear about her unrequited love and Rose can’t imagine what she can say to him about it.  
  
"I’m over it," she tells him.   
  
He doesn’t look convinced, which probably means Rose is rubbish at hiding her feelings, but she _definitely_ doesn’t want to talk about it. After all, they haven’t exchanged a word about the fact that he had  - well, _has,_ she supposes - an unrequited affection for beautiful Reinette, who apparently semi-returns the sentiment, but who isn’t ready to leave her successful restaurateur boyfriend for mere _feelings_. They’ve not spoken about that at all, thankfully, and Rose wants to keep it that way.  
  
"Nothing to worry about," Rose assures him. "It was just a crush anyway."  
  
*   
  
_This is better than a crush_ , she tells herself when he hugs her hello, or brings her coffee exactly the way she likes it. Sometimes when he sees her he grins so widely it’s almost absurd and it gives her the nicest, wobbliest feeling in the pit of her stomach.  
  
She’s got that feeling now, in her stomach and in her chest, because the Doctor has got a headache and really, it’s true what they say about men being the absolute biggest babies on the planet when they get even the most minor of illnesses. He’s been moaning about it all morning and has spent the entire lunch hour slumped against Rose, head on her shoulder as she gently massages his scalp with her fingertips.  
  
She knows nothing about technique and is a bit embarrassed considering he’s the expert but the Doctor seems to like it. He’s telling her a rambling story about his Uni days, which like all his tale verge on the impossibly outlandish, full of witty turns and unsubtle bragging.   
  
Rose rubs little circles into his temples and sighs, secretly cataloging everything: his scent, his warmth, the soft, springy tufts of his really, really great hair. Just as she’s drifting into a daydream about that hair, he suddenly pulls away, sitting up straight and leaving Rose feeling cold and bereft.  
  
"What’s he like?"  
  
The question startles her. “Who?”  
  
"Your… fellow. What’s he like?"  
  
"What fellow?"  
  
He looks at her, pointedly, and Rose seriously has no idea what he’s talking about for a moment. Then it hits her.  
  
Oh. _Oh_.  
  
"He’s… um… why do you want to know?"  
  
He shrugs. “I just do. Come on. Tell me. What does he look like?”  
  
 _He’s tall, skinny, gorgeous, and totally oblivious._ “He’s… short. Shorter than me. He’s really, um, built, you know? Big. I mean, muscular. Um.” She glances at him quickly, and adds, “He’s ginger! And his eyes are blue.”  
  
The Doctor blinks, slowly, digesting this information. He tugs at his ear. “So… that’s your type, is it? Short and muscular and… ginger?”  
  
"Uh… yeah. Guess so."  
  
"Hmm." He’s quiet for a few minutes as he stares at the looping advertisments for House Renovators Global Edition. Rose squirms and tries not to breathe too loudly or do anything really.   
  
"Well, that’s something," he murmurs to himself, rubbing his jaw. He sits up straight and pats her on the shoulder. "I should get going. I have a 4 o’clock appointment. Good talk. I’ll see you later."  
  
She spots him later coming down the hallway to the exit, lugging a big box in his arms. He doesn’t notice her because he can’t see over the box.  
  
"What’s all that?" She asks, tiptoeing to peer inside.   
  
"Oh… just some things I picked up."  
  
He’s nonchalant about it but there’s something in the way he avoids her gaze that intrigues her. The box is full of big tubs of protein whey powder, the kind blokes buy when they decide they’re going to go to the gym and bulk up and become the next Hulk Hogan or something. She’s taken aback, it’s so totally a thing she would never have thought the Doctor would ever be interested in. He doesn’t seem the type.  
  
She follows him to the south elevator without much thought and presses the P3 button to take them down to where he’s parked his old blue car. Rose accepts the offer of a ride home, and the drive is both bumpy and companionable.    
  
"This fellow of yours," the Doctor says, into the strange quiet between the car slowing to a stop at her front door and Rose’s hand settling on the handle of the passenger door, "Did he outright say he’s not interested? Or are you just assuming things?"  
  
Rose’s blood runs cold for several seconds and it takes her a few dry swallows before she can speak. He can’t know. He can’t possibly-  
  
"I’m just wondering, because you never said. I mean, you said he didn’t show up that one time, but maybe he had an emergency, or he was running late, or-"  
  
"No," she says oppressively. "He’s definitely not interested."  
  
"But how do you know?" His eyes are like laser points boring into her head.  
  
"Why do you want to know?" She demands, licking her parched lips to wet them. "Why does it matter?"  
  
"Because… you should know for sure. You can’t move on, until you’re sure. You know?"  
  
 _Move on? Fat chance._ Rose nods glumly. “I’m sure, Doctor.”  
  
"Well. Okay. It’s just… well, I find it hard to believe."  
  
"What?"  
  
"That someone rejected you," he says. For a moment she’s not sure she heard right. "I mean, you’re… you’re amazing."  
  
"What?"  
  
It’s all she seems capable of verbally mustering up. One coherent syllable.  
  
"Whoever he is, it’s his loss, for letting you slip through his fingers." He sounds very earnest, and Rose doesn’t know what to think. He can’t be implying… nah, she’s sure he isn’t. He’s just trying to make her feel better.  
  
She turns the words over and over in her head that night in bed and tries her hardest to squash the stuttering hope it raises in her chest.  
  
*  
  
The next day the heavens provide a distraction to keep Rose from dwelling too much on pipe dreams and unresolved… tension of a certain nature. She’s visited at work by an old friend.   
  
Mickey Smith samples some tea and gives Rose a package from her mum. They chat for a bit, catching up, laughing over old jokes and Mickey drops a hint about how lonely Jackie’s been feeling. Rose, who has been enjoying their conversation up until this point, pretends she didn’t hear.  
  
It’s not that she doesn’t miss living with her mum - its just that London outside of the Estate, even in a tiny shite one room flat, is a completely different London - an exciting, vast one. The dead ends don’t seem as dead. Even in a tea shop.  
  
So despite the long hours, low pay, and the struggle to make ends meet, Rose feels strong, independent. Quitting school and running away with Jimmy Stone had been a mistake - but it had taught her how to stand on her own feet.  
  
Rose is about to hurry back to work when the Doctor waves her over.  
  
"Who’s that?"  
  
"Oh… just Mickey."  
  
He looks over his shoulder at Mickey’s departing back. “Your friend?”  
  
"Yeah. Known him for years. We grew up in the same neighbourhood. He’s cool."  
  
The Doctor nods, briefly, and Rose is about to ask him if he can give her a lift home later but a loud crash in the back of the store makes her wince and hastily excuse herself to run in and clean whatever mess has just been made by some careless shopper.  
  
She hears him mutter something under his breath that sounds like ‘not exactly short and ginger, is he’ but is too distracted by broken china and wet puddles to take much note.  
  
*

"What have you done to him?" Donna demands with incredulity, cornering Rose just outside the women’s loo. "He went to the _gym_.” She spits the word out like it’s offensive.  
  
"What’s that got to do with me?" Rose asks defensively.  
  
"What d’you think?"  
  
"Health and fitness is important," Rose parrots, repeating the Doctor’s words to her.  
  
Donna snorts. “Yeah, he’s worried about fitness alright! He wants to make sure _you_ think _he’s_ fit.”  
  
Rose is way past the point of finding the Doctor fit. She almost says so but manages to stop herself in time, face reddening, but Donna’s very, very smug expression is a dead giveaway that the Doctor’s cousin not fooled in the least.

*  
  
The Doctor’s cheery hello reaches Rose’s ears before she even catches sight of him. She tries to tamp down the inordinate amount of happiness she feels at the sound of his voice.  
  
"I broke my strainer, I need a new one."  
  
"Again? You got a new one last week."  
  
"They’re so flimsy!" he protests. "Have you seen Donna put on the kettle? It’s like she’s going to battle. I’m lucky I’ve got a kettle at all!"  
  
"Here," Rose says, giving him a new strainer before turning away to brew him a cup of Earl Grey.  
  
"So, how come you weren’t in yesterday?" The Doctor asks casually, pretending to be perusing a wall of Japanese tea services.  
  
"I went to visit my mum," Rose replies, adding a spoonful of honey to his tea. His voice sounds a little gravelly, which is sexy, and she kinda likes it, but it probably just means he’s catching a cold.  
  
"How’d it go? Did you have a nice visit?"  
  
"Yep," Rose replies, wondering where this sudden interest in her domestic life has come from. "Same old mum, same old estate."  
  
He takes a mini silver whisk off the wall and examines it. “Is it far?”  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your mum’s house."  
  
"Not a house," Rose mutters under her breath. She takes the whisk out of his hand and replaces it with his tea. "It’s not far. I took the tube."  
  
"Thanks." He takes a sip. "Oh, this is lovely! You went by yourself, then? Just you and your mum?"  
  
Rose looks at him, confused. “Yeah. Who else would go visit my mum? I’m an only child.”  
  
"Right," he says, dazzling her with a bright, cheerful smile. "Right."  
  
*  
  
One morning, her coworker calls in sick and head office declares a formal, immediate recall of six different types of tea. Rose has no choice but to remove the stock off the shelves and take it all downstairs to the loading dock where a truck is waiting. It’s probably not the smartest idea to do this by herself. Balanced precariously on a ladder she’s found in the storage cupboard at the back of the shop, Rose tries her best not to break her own neck.   
  
The world seems to wobble, and for a fleeting second she is honestly afraid she _really_ will fall.  
  
"You need someone to hold the ladder steady for you," someone says, and suddenly the steps stop shaking and she’s breathing again. Rose bends her head to look and the Doctor’s there, standing below her, his hands holding either side of the rungs.  
  
She grabs the tub of White Darjeeling and he says, ‘Pass it to me,” so she does. He takes it and sets it on the counter and then his hands are steadying the ladder again. Rose descends slowly, her back to him. When her foot touches the floor, she’s between him and the rungs, his arms a cage around her. He’s warm and tall and smells nice.  
  
She turns, but he hasn’t moved. She looks up, dizzy from the proximity, and he’s looking down, his arms trapping her between him and the ladder.  
  
For some reason all Rose can think to say is, “Hello,” in a breathless voice.  
  
"Hello," he says back, his eyes crinkling.  
  
"Thanks," she says. Neither of them moves. Rose clears her throat. The Doctor pulls back and looks down at the tubs of expired tea.  
  
"I have to take them down to the parking garage," she explains.  
  
"I’ll help," he offers, and loads up the dolly without another word. He even pushes it down the hall for her, past the supermarket to the freight elevator.  
  
Neither of them have ever taken it before and it’s a bit tricky navigating the heavy grate door. It doesn’t exactly close all the way down. There’s a half-inch gap at the bottom but the thing refuses to budge any further.  
  
The Doctor shrugs and hits the down button. The elevator shudders and sinks a few inches. Then it stalls. Completely.  
  
"Er," he says, after a moment. "That’s not supposed to happen, is it?"  
  
"Don’t think so," Rose replies, stomach sinking.  
  
"Is there a call button?"  
  
They both search high and low and finally Rose spots it, in the corner, the same rusty grey steel as the rest of the cabin, colour faded from use.  
  
She presses it repeatedly. Nothing happens. The Doctor reaches for his mobile. No signal. They are officially trapped.  
  
"Don’t worry," the Doctor says soothingly. "Someone’s going to come by sooner or later."  
  
"I’m not worried," Rose says. But actually she is a bit worried, and sort of hungry, and her stomach rumbles as soon as the thought enters her head.  
  
"Hopefully sooner," he remarks. "Haven’t you had lunch yet?"  
  
"Too busy."  
  
"I’m buying you a sandwich." His look dares her to argue.  
  
"Make it chips," Rose says, rubbing her belly. "Two servings."  
  
"You _are_ starving. I hope someone comes soon, or they might find that one of us has eaten the other.”  
  
Rose laughs. “Ew.”  
  
"I dunno. I bet you taste good."  
  
It takes a few seconds for both of them to process his throwaway line and it’s implications. Rose blushes.  
  
"Sorry," he says, grinning sheepishly. "That came out wrong."  
  
"S’okay," she replies, and rubs at a stain on her jeans. "Of course I know you don’t mean it like that."  
  
"Of course," he echoes. His tone is weird, and there’s emotion behind the words she doesn’t understand. When she shoots a quick glance at his face she notices that he looks irritated. She can’t fathom why. Except they _are_ trapped in the freight elevator with no immediate hope of rescue, so maybe that’s why he’s upset.  
  
Then the Doctor says, “He really did a number on you, didn’t he? This idiot who rejected you. You’re brilliant, Rose Tyler. Like I said before, it’s his loss. Don’t you dare let him get you down, there are millions of blokes out there who’d cut off their right hand to be with you.”  
  
The blush from earlier comes back and intensifies on her face. He seems to be expecting a response, so Rose says, embarrassed and hesitant, “Thanks.”  
  
"I mean it," he continues earnestly, looking right at her. "Rose, you’re fantastic, honestly. And if… I mean, I know you’ve had a recent… disappointment, but," he pauses, letting go of the dolly handle and taking a step towards her, "If…"  
  
"Yeah?" Rose asks, breathless. He takes another step closer, drawing himself to his full height, so Rose has to tilt her head back to look at him properly. His expression makes her stomach flop.  
  
"If I said…"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Reinette."  
  
The Doctor’s gaze slips past her. Rose turns her head, just enough to see out of her peripheral vision that Reinette is indeed standing behind her, next to the exit sign.   
  
Rose clears her throat and says, in a much more steady voice than she thought herself capable of, “We’re stuck.”  
  
"The door’s not all the way closed," their audience of one observes. Rose wonders with a distant sort of bitterness how much Reinette has overheard.   
  
"Hold the button as you push down," Reinette says through the grate. "You’ll hear a click and then it’ll slam tight, careful with your fingers-"  
  
The Doctor yanks his hand back as the elevator cab shudders and starts moving. “Thank you,” he says, as they start descending, inch by slow inch. “You saved us.”  
  
Reinette smiles. The Doctor smiles back. An  understanding of sorts passes between them, one Rose isn’t a part of. She turns away and pretends to be busy with the dolly.  
  
 _Just friends,_ she reminds herself. Whatever it was the Doctor was going to say is forgotten, lost. He doesn’t bring it up again.  
  
*  
  
The words “give up” do not exist in Donna Noble’s lexicon.

"When are you two just going to get on with it? Lord, the mood swings! I know the signs, I’ve seen it before."  
  
"You’ve got it wrong," Rose says in a quiet voice. Then, in an even quieter voice, and it kills her to acknowledge it, to admit to it, but what does it matter anyway? Donna _knows_. “It’s not me.”  
  
"Hmm," says Donna, in a way that makes Rose feel a sudden prick of apprehension. She feels a presence behind her, tall and looming, and knows without turning that it’s the Doctor.   
  
"I’ve gotta go," she blurts out, and bolts.  
  
*  
  
Rose gets tired of repeating over and over that they’re _just friends_. It’s not like she doesn’t want to be more, she thinks irritably, but she hasn’t got a choice, has she? The Doctor doesn’t feel that way about her. He’s in love with Reinette, who is marrying another man.

"Really?" Adam looks skeptical, but there’s a certain pleased glint in his eye that Rose doesn’t like. "So you’re… available?"  
  
"Yeah," she forces out, teeth gritted.

Donna would say she’s being deliberately obtuse about things. In fact, she _has_ said so, but Rose can’t help the feeling of terror in the pit of her stomach at the thought of misunderstanding his intentions again.

"Sorry, I’ve got plans," she says when Adam suggests they meet up at the pub down the road from his place over the weekend.  
  
*  
  
"Come here," was the imperious command from the Doctor’s cousin. In that tone of voice, Rose knows it’s better to obey or risk the wrath of London’s most feared clinic receptionist.  
  
"Get inside," Donna says without explanation, shoving Rose into the room where the Doctor is sitting on the massage table. He leaps to his feet as soon as the door is shut firmly behind Rose, his face slightly pale but resolute.   
  
"What’s going on here?" Rose asks, her throat dry.   
  
"You’ve been avoiding me," he says. "Why?"  
  
"No I haven’t," she says quickly. "What’s going on here? Why has Donna locked the door?"  
  
"So you can’t run away." He pushes away from the table and approaches her, his back ramrod straight, hands shoved into his pockets in his trademark discomforted pose. The one he uses when he has to do something uncomfortable or stressful. Rose is overcome with alarm and she looks around the room for a means of escape-  
  
"Rose, look at me. Please."  
  
The window! No, it’s too high. Damn.  
  
"Rose," the Doctor says with a beseeching note in his voice that stops her cold. "I’m sorry, Rose. Please, just look at me. What did I do wrong?"  
  
"You haven’t done anything wrong," she says immediately. "Why would you think that?"  
  
"Why aren’t you speaking to me? Have I annoyed you somehow? Did I say something to offend you? If so, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I swear-"  
  
Rose finally does look at him, and the anxiety and worry and fear she sees in his face is her downfall. Time seems to freeze. He looks - there’s no other way to describe it - he looks _sad_.   
  
It feels like a punch to the gut, and suddenly Rose knows what she has to say to him, what she has to ask.  
  
"In the elevator-"  
  
"Rose, I-" the Doctor says at the same time. They both stop talking, waiting for the other to continue.  
  
"Go on," Rose says.  
  
"No, you first," he insists.  
  
She takes a deep breath, and steps closer to him. The lines of his face are tense, pensive. “You were saying something that day in the elevator, but you got interrupted. What was it? The thing you were gonna tell me.”  
  
His voice is soft and measured. “You don’t know?”  
  
"I won’t know until you tell me."  
  
They’re alone, they’re locked in this room together, there won’t be any interruptions this time. Not with Donna standing guard. This is it.   
   
"I’ve been very obvious about it," he says slowly. "According to Donna."   
  
Rose’s skin prickles, with excitement, with expectation.   
  
"But also according to Donna… it hasn’t been obvious to you. Apparently I haven’t made my intentions very clear. That’s my fault, though. I’m so stupid. I didn’t know until you said you’d been rejected by someone else. I was jealous. Jealous that you were interested in another man."  
  
He looks terribly vulnerable all of a sudden, and Rose’s chest swells with unbearable affection for him. She thinks, _should I tell him?_   
  
Instead, she asks, “What about Reinette?”  
  
The Doctor shrugs and looks embarrassed and sorry. “I… regret it, mostly. I acted on an impulse. Most of all, I was kicking myself for not realising who I really had feelings for. And you, Rose - you’re such a kind soul, so generous and compassionate, I used that to my advantage. I let you think I was nursing a broken heart because I liked having your attention. I’m sorry for that.”  
  
"So… what do you say?" He asks, tentatively, rubbing his neck with one hand, the other shoved in his pocket.  
  
 _Oh, sod it._  
   
"You owe me two movie tickets," she says.  
  
He opens his mouth to say something like ‘huh?’ but she cuts him off.  
  
Rose launches herself at him, her hands seizing his shirt collar to yank his stupid adorable face down to meet hers. For a second he looks dumbfounded and freezes, then his brain kicks in (or maybe it turns off entirely and he just starts running on impulse and desire like Rose is) and he starts kissing her back.  
  
He’s a good kisser, ardent but not pushy, letting her set the pace she wants. His lips are soft and she gives into the urge to nip at his lower lip, the way she always wants to. When they finally break apart for air his eyes are glazed over. The dazed expression on his face makes her grin, sends a triumphant thrill coursing through her entire body.  
  
"You alright?" Even to her own ears her voice is unbearably smug.  
  
"Uh huh," he says, wrapping both his arms around her waist. "Just… give me a minute."  
  
Rose giggles into his shirt front.  
  
"Right," he says, shaking his head. "Right. Does this mean-"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But-"  
  
 _"Yes_ ,” she repeats.  
  
His hands are rubbing circles into her back, gradually climbing up until he’s pressing both thumbs just below her shoulder blades, working at a knot she didn’t know was there. It feels amazing.  
  
"Do you want a massage?" He whispers in her ear, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. "I’m pretty good. No one’s gone away disappointed."  
  
"So I hear," Rose murmurs contentedly. "But you’re too expensive."  
  
"It’s on the house."  
  
"Oh really?"  
  
"Oh yes. I’ll throw in all sorts of extras. Just for you, Rose Tyler…" His voice drops another octave, and there’s a slightly wicked hint of laughter in his tone. "In fact, just for you… I guarantee a happy end."  
  
Her mouth falls open in shock and he laughs and seizes the opportunity to kiss her again, his tongue stealing inside to caress and coax and enflame her senses.  
  
"Okay," she says unsteadily, linking her hands around his neck for support. "I’ll take the happy ending."  
  
*


End file.
